Tag Archives: Poetry

Subway Riders Can’t Miss This

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Without a doubt, the acronym “MTA” has a negative connotation do it.

Nonetheless, we all use it. In the recent years MTA has implemented a program called “Arts for Transit”, which displays any form of arts in the stations, in the trains, basically anywhere in the transit system.

I remember we read a poem in the beginning of the year called “Construction Site, Windy Night” (Pg 201 in Poems of New York). The thing that I most remembered from it was some sort of scaffolds, plastic sheets that was flying from the building. Today, as I was on the D train going back to the dorms, I notice a poem titled “Scaffolding” by Seamus Heaney (1939-2013). The poem went something like this:

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seems to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.

This beginning of the poem is pretty straight forward. The first two stanzas pretty much depicts a mason’s job when they begin to build. However, the poem starts to change in the third stanza, when the speaker seems to be sad that the scaffolds are falling. This however exposes the beauty of the building when its done.

The fourth stanza is the highlight of the poem. The speaker speaks to someone he cares, someone he loves, most likely a mate, and it reveals that the relationship between the two may be “falling apart”. But he ends up with the fifth stanza, saying that whats behind that scaffold is something stronger, something more beautiful.

So next time you take a ride on the MTA, check out the arts and all the stuff you see just may very much surprise you! See if you can spot this poem as well! 🙂

~Christopher Chong

On “The Argument Resumed; Or, Up Through Tribeca”

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Everything comes to an end. The ideas of limitations and absoluteness, infinity and ephemeralness, have been questioned since the time of the Ancient Greeks.  These opposing ideas mainly appeared through the focuses on immortality and mortality; life and death. Some believed that beauty was truly immortal. Things such as art, love, and even blood lines (mainly considering royalty) were considered beautiful and grand because they existed longer than a lifetime. Philosophers such as Socrates have supported this idea. Socrates viewed love as humanity’s attempt to achieve immortality, a feat that overcomes physical impossibilities.

The opposing idea, which the poem appears to follow, is that beauty is fleeting. It can only exist in limited periods of time. Many poets and romanticists, such as William Shakespeare believed in this idea. In his sonnets, Shakespeare discussed that death, in fact, makes life greater because it (death) ends it (life). Because life is limited by death, one must make their best of it, and enjoy what is has to offer. Without death, life loses it beauty, and becomes dry and sorrowful.

The idea of memory, however, treads the line between the differing views on infinity or temporariness. A memory is something that can last a lifetime, or can persist through time if it is somehow recorded (a diary, biography, painting, etc.). The thing that is remembered, nonetheless, is stuck in time. It is finite. The poet of “The Argument Resumed” shows that beauty must be finite, that something beautiful can only exist temporarily, and that it can only be enjoyed momentarily because of its connection to memory. The key line from the latter half of the poem is “How shall it bear repeating?”. “It”, here, refers to any beautiful moment, event or thing. The poet uses basic logic to argue that if something beautiful lasts forever, how is it possible for humans to recall it multiple times? The poet discusses that true beauty and glory exists in bursts or short periods of time. It is possible for these short bursts to reinstate that sensation of magnificence any time in the future.

I cannot help but finding myself in agreement with the poet. If beautiful things were everlasting, how would we possibly enjoy anything else? How would it be possible to ever return to any singular, truly enjoyed and cherished piece of time?

Man on fire escape

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This poem is difficult to understand and I’m taking another shoot to get this post right.

The man is on the fire escape to watch the sunset.

I think this description is good enough because if I add anything more I’ll probably have to correct it again. No one can argue with this, though.

On Mannahatta

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After reading “Mannahatta,” by Walt Whitman, one thing really stood out to me. The overall mood and flow of the poem completely relates to the theme of the stereotypical Manhattan. Not once in this poem does Whitman come to a full stop, that is until the end. This matches the “hustle and bustle” that many people use to describe the fast-paced life that is demanded by Manhattan. He describes scenes separately, yet he is able to create a single picture. His word choice, even, causes the reader to keep the images of speed and grandness in their minds. He uses words such as “swift,” “ample,” “numberless,” and “countless.” Even in his descriptions of the seasons, he ignores spring and autumn, causing the readers mind to simply jump forward in time, adding to the element of speed. Overall, I generally enjoyed reading this poem, as it reveals how true the Manhattan culture has remained since the late 1800s.